Honestly, I find these music-theory riffs of hers brilliant, but she seems like she’s speaking another language entirely. One I definitely do not speak. Her music descriptions are even harder to understand than the rapid Spanish she speaks with her family, because with music, she expects me to sort of understand what she’s talking about. At least I have some rudimentary knowledge of Spanish, having taken it for three years in school, but all I remember from piano lessons is how to play “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” (With feeling.)

As Elton drones on, my mind wanders again. To ecotourism. To the rescue center.

To Quint Erickson and his mom and how they need more staff and how dingy the building was.

What the center needs to do is stop acting like a nonprofit focused on helping poor stranded animals, and start acting like a business. It needs someone with vision. Someone who can help them be profitable. Well, profitable for a nonprofit, at least. If that makes sense. I don’t know, it doesn’t matter, because my wheels are turning, and it seems suddenly clear that …

What the center needs is someone like me.

“That’s it!” I sit up suddenly and look at Ari. “Ecotourism! I can … I…” I frown. “Are you crying?”

Ari, embarrassed at being found out, swipes the tears from her cheeks. “No,” she says. Then sniffs. Then, “Yes! I can’t help it! It’s just so sad.”

I listen to the song as the final verse plays.

Oh God, it looks like Daniel. Must be the clouds in my eyes.

I shrug. “Who the heck is Daniel?”

Ari starts to laugh. “I have no idea!”

I groan and stand up to shut off the record player, just as the last melody plays on the flute. “So, the whole time Quint and I were working on that project for biology, he kept talking about this animal rescue center. Well, I think he maybe had a point. What if the center could become a huge draw for tourists? They might even be able to make some money! I mean, they’d still be a nonprofit, but some nonprofit CEOs are, like, millionaires. Not that this is about money. But I’m just saying. I could take what I learned doing that stupid report and … and what if I rescued the rescue center?”

Ari sits up and blinks at me. Her cheeks are tinted pink, but the rush of emotions brought on by the song seem to be fading. “I’m sorry. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to come up with a business plan! For the rescue center!”

Ari still looks confused. “You know I admire your ambition, but you’ve been there for exactly one day.”

“Which gives me the perfect outsider point of view. I’m not mired in the day-to-day business and caretaking. What they need is an injection of new ideas, something to bring new life to the organization and their mission. Something that will make them … you know … valuable.”

“You don’t think saving the lives of animals is valuable?”

I roll my eyes. “You sound like Quint. That’s not what I mean. They need a way to make money, and it turns out seals and turtles don’t have deep pockets.” I stand up and start to pace, rubbing my hands together in a way that might be construed as a little maniacal. My brain is firing on a dozen different levels, the possibilities exploding before me. “It’s perfect. This can be a real-world example of how ecotourism benefits the tourists, the community, the local economy, and the environment. The paper practically writes itself, and if I succeed—if I bring a nonprofit organization back from the brink of bankruptcy—just imagine how good that will look on my college applications! I’ll get to pick any business school I want to.”

“Do you know that they’re on the brink of bankruptcy, or are you just speculating?”

“It’s an educated guess,” I say. “And stop trying to burst my bubble. This is genius. Wow, I’m actually kind of excited to tell Quint about this.” I frown. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Your secret is safe.”

I start to pace again. I can’t help but feel like the universe has nudged me toward this somehow. All the signs have been pointing in this direction, all the dominoes lined up just right. Being partners with Quint, the poor grade, Morgan’s fall off the ladder, right down to Rosa’s suggestion that Quint train me as a volunteer. I might have been resistant at first, but now it makes sense, especially given that it’s all happening so soon after the discovery of my brand-new cosmic power. It has to mean something. Something bigger than me, bigger than Quint.

Maybe this is a sign that I’ve been put on a path toward my destiny.

Now I just have to follow along and see where it leads.

SEVENTEEN

I arrive at the rescue center bright and early, as instructed, but this time I have a folder tucked under my arm. I hardly slept last night. My mind was awash with ideas, and I stayed up far too late making plans and researching nonprofits and fundraising methods. I have ideas. So many ideas. They’re carrying me along now, buoyed like a barrel in the water. I’m not tired at all as I step into the lobby. I’m electrified. I’m ready to make a difference.

But my feet halt as soon as I step through the door. Quint and his mom are both standing by a desk, along with Shauna and another woman wearing a white lab coat—Dr. Jindal? Two other volunteers hover nearby, too. They’re all looking sullen, arms crossed over their matching yellow shirts.

Quint blinks when he sees me. “You came back,” he says, clearly surprised.

I bristle and push my sunglasses up to the top of my head. “Of course I came back.” I make a show of checking my watch, which Ari gave me for a birthday present last year. “And you’re not late for once?”

He almost smiles. “I guess miracles happen.”

“Thank you, Opal,” says Rosa, handing a piece of paper to the vet. “I’ll start putting calls out to institutions today.” She shrugs sadly at the waiting volunteers. “Time to break out the toys, I guess. Been a while. Hope all those beach balls haven’t deflated.”

I frown, motionless, as the volunteers and Dr. Jindal walk away. “What’s going on?”

“Luna has a cognitive disorder,” says Quint. “She’ll never be able to feed herself, which means we can’t send her back out into the ocean.”

“Oh.” I don’t bother trying to hide my confusion. It takes everything in me not to ask, What’s so wrong with that? When clearly this is a big deal to everyone else. “So she’ll go to an aquarium or a zoo or something?”

“When she’s ready,” says Rosa. “It will be a few months. I’m so happy we found her, and that she’ll survive. It’s just … we always hope they’ll be released to their natural habitat in the end.”

“There is a silver lining,” says Quint. “When our animals do end up at zoos and aquariums, they can teach people about wildlife and conservation. They become advocates, sort of, for other animals and for the center.”

I still feel like I’m missing something. To me, the idea of going to a lovely zoo where I’m hand-fed fish all day and get to frolic in the water while adorable children coo and clap sounds like a much better life than trying to hunt for my dinner and risk getting tangled up in fishing line. But I know I’m probably the only person here who feels that way, so I bite my tongue.

“We’ll find a nice place,” says Shauna, squeezing Rosa’s shoulder. “The nicest place that will take her. It’s going to be fine.”

Shauna is wearing some intense jewelry today, having traded in the strand of pearls for hoop earrings that are almost the size of baseballs and a rhinestone brooch shaped like a butterfly that she’s pinned to her T-shirt. I suppose when your job comes with a uniform as awful as those yellow shirts, it’s natural to want to display your personal sense of style. For me, it’s lipstick. For Shauna, evidently, it’s blingy costume jewelry. At least her accessories kind of fit with the cute grandma vibe she has going on.

“So, this might be bad timing?” I say, stepping closer to the desk. “But I had some ideas to share with you.”

Rosa looks at me. “What sort of ideas?”

“Yeah,” says Quint, sounding wary. “What sort of ideas?”

“Just some things that occurred to me. About the business here and how things are run…”

Quint snorts and casts his eyes skyward, as if pleading for patience. “Of course you did,” he mutters.

I’m not sure what he means by that.

“Mostly just fundraising ideas,” I continue, ignoring him. “And some community outreach. Things that I think will help bring more attention to the center, raise awareness for the animals … hopefully even increase revenue. It sounded like money has been tight.”

Rosa lets out a weary groan. “Understatement.” She opens her palms, waving her hands over the stacks of teetering piles on the desk. “We’ve tried fundraising over the years. It’s hit or miss.” She looks despondent. Like this is merely a fact of the nonprofit world. And maybe it is. But I’m convinced it doesn’t have to be. At least, not for this center. “Thankfully we’ve had much more consistent success with grants.”

“Right,” I say. “I heard that, too. But, well, you know Quint and I did this project for biology this year.” For some reason, I find myself avoiding Quint’s gaze as I say this. I can feel him watching me, frowning, and it’s making me nervous. In part because I have no idea what he has to be upset about. “And I think I can use my research to help the center, which in turn will help with my extra-credit assignment. I’m thinking of this as a symbiotic relationship. Like sharks and those little suckerfish that help them clean off the parasites.”

I grin, proud of myself for remembering that lesson from class, and I can’t help casting a look at Quint. He looks radically unimpressed. His voice is flat when he says, “In this scenario, are you the shark or the suckerfish or the parasite?”